


Drabble: Rest

by DerangedLychan



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerangedLychan/pseuds/DerangedLychan
Summary: I wrote this YEARS ago and thought I lost it when I purged my ffn account. Found in a buried folder and uploading for safekeeping.
Relationships: France/Scotland (Hetalia)
Kudos: 9





	Drabble: Rest

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this YEARS ago and thought I lost it when I purged my ffn account. Found in a buried folder and uploading for safekeeping.

It was cold, and they were tired and hungry. The humans had chased them relentlessly for hours now, and they were growing very tired.

True, nations could only temporarily die, but that didn't make the experience any less terrifying. Simply because it wasn't simply death for a nation.

It was complete immersion into their land and their people. Every thought, every strife, every prayer, every desire, guilt, pleasure, hatred, love, envy, goal, dream and nightmare. Every sensation, pain, pleasure, hunger, cold, hot, soft and stiff. Every fallen tree and decaying body. It was losing their person completely, body and mind, and becoming nothing more than an idea. It was losing their self to their people.

True that Scotland and France were young countries, physically only children, but they'd lived for many, many years without growing hardly at all, and had been labeled monsters by their own peoples. France had, in a panic, run to Scotland for help, only to find he was being persecuted as well. Their medieval people didn't understand their necessity.

Now they were huddled under a tree in Northern Scotland, gasping for air.

"Alasdair, I do not think I can run too much farther." Francis gasped.

"Aye, me either." the Scot reply, glancing back to the direction they came from.

"What do we do?" Alasdair wet his lips, brows furrowing and green eyes troubled. They couldn't run forever, and the humans had dogs. Even if they were a little faster and a little stronger, even in their young state, they would be caught, and killed. There was no escaping it. He couldn't tell Francis that, though.

The blond's breath was still coming in ragged pants, but his sky blue eyes were bright with trust and fixed on him. His heart clenched. He couldn't just tell the Frenchman they were going to die. He thought a moment, then simply fell onto his bottom, leaning against the tree.  
"We're fine fer now." he breathed, still a bit winded. "C'mere an' we'll take a nap afore findin' somewhere te 'ide." Francis blinked, then smiled brightly, darting forward to snuggle against his side, humming faintly.

"Where will we 'ide?" he asked, looking up at the redhead from his place, curled against his side.

"Dunno, we'll think o' that when we get up." he promised, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Get some sleep." Francis nodded, and smiled faintly, closing his eyes. Alasdair draped his arm around the other protectively, sighing. He hated to lie, but better they went out peacefully.  
After Francis's breaths even out and became soft, he lay down, pulling Francis against his chest, between him and the tree, and yawned. His sleep took much longer to come than the younger nation's, but settle over him eventually. Dogs sounded in the distance.

They lay like that, Scotland curled protectively around the faintly smiling France, until the humans arrive.


End file.
